Isolated
by Anaesthetised
Summary: When Harry and Draco return to Hogwarts for their 6th year, both find themselves alone, isolated from their peers. An unlikely friendship begins...and progresses...HPDM SLASH, Rated M for later chapters.
1. A Difficult Start

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, Hogwarts, etc.

**Warning: This story will be a SLASH story in time. If you don't like it, don't read it!**

Also, I'm in need of a beta, so if anyone is willing just send me a message and I'll get back to you asap. In the meantime, any mistakes are my own.

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**Settling In**

Harry Potter stared blankly out of the window of the Hogwarts Express. The weather outside was hardly cheerful, with dark clouds sending drops of rain pounding continuously on the glass. Harry had no idea as to what time it was, nor how long he had been sitting in the same position, curled up in the corner of the otherwise empty compartment of the train.

It was September 1st, and the Hogwarts Express was taking the students back to the castle for another year of school. Normally Harry would have been ecstatic at the thought of returning to the only place he had ever considered to be a home, but this time things were different.

Harry had spent the entire summer at the Dursleys, and had been rather disappointed by the fact that Ron and Hermione had barely written to him. By the time that the third week of the holidays came by, Harry had stopped looking for owls outside the window in the mornings, and had began to worry that his friends had forgotten him completely.

In spite of the fact that if something bad had happened he would know immediately, Harry had convinced himself that there had to be a good reason for the absence of mail. He thought that perhaps there had been a problem with the owls – possibly a similar situation to when Dobby had stolen his letters prior to his second year at Hogwarts.

Harry had thought of several different possibilities as to why his friends might not have written to him, but was completely unprepared for the scene that had occurred on Platform 9¾.

Harry had caught sight of Ron and Hermione, standing close to one of the carriage doors of the scarlet steam engine. He had shouted to them, trying to attract their attention, but neither seemed to hear him. Harry had started to run towards them, dodging the various other students who were saying goodbye to their families.

When he was about ten feet from where his friends stood, Harry had suddenly stopped dead in his tracks. Ron had put his arms around Hermione, and the two were sharing a tender kiss. The two had broken the kiss, and both jumped apart looking guilty when they had noticed his presence.

It turned out that Ron and Hermione were now a couple, and had spent the entire summer together at the Burrow. Harry had congratulated his two best friends, but felt hurt that neither of them had spared a moment to write to him. He hadn't mentioned this, feeling that starting a new school year with an argument wouldn't be the best idea.

Hermione had been quick to reassure Harry that nothing was going to change between the three friends, and he had nodded, and assured her that he knew they weren't like that.

That had only been a few hours ago, and already Harry was starting to realise that Hermione had been lying, that in fact _everything_ was going to change. There had been only the three of them in the compartment, but Ron and Hermione had been cuddled up on one side, kissing far more frequently than Harry thought was necessary. It made him feel awkward, like a spare part.

However, Harry did not have to endure this for long, because after only twenty minutes they both left for the Prefects carriage, and to patrol the train to make sure that nobody was up to no good.

So Harry was sat alone, staring blankly out of the window, wondering idly whether his best friends had actually realised that they had both forgotten him.

It was difficult to tell due to the darkness caused by the thick clouds, but Harry assumed that it had to be at least 7 o' clock, seeing as the plump witch with the trolley had passed by three times now, and it looked to be getting darker. He realised that if this was the case, he would need to get into his robes quickly, or he would be late to leave the train.

He pulled on his school robes over his normal clothes, before letting out a heavy sigh, realising that his 6th year at Hogwarts was going to be far from easy. '_I'm not even back at the castle yet, and I'm already having problems', _he thought, as he resumed his position by the window, watching the rain fall outside.

At the front of the train, in the Slytherin Prefect's carriage, Draco Malfoy sat deep in thought, a small scowl on his pale face. He couldn't believe how irritating his fellow classmates seemed to have become over the summer. They were all worrying about simple, easily solved problems such as not having completed their Charms homework, or which N.E.W.T's they were going to be allowed to take.

Draco couldn't care less about either of these things. He had much more important things to worry about, namely the mission he was to have completed by the end of the school year. The mission that he had been given by the Dark Lord. That was the truly important matter in hand.

Draco had learned a lot about what was truly important over the summer. He had learned that no matter how much he did not want to become a Death Eater, there was no escape, and that the consequences of disobeying the Dark Lord would almost certainly lead to his death.

As he thought these things, Draco's left hand moved subconsciously to his right arm, and he began absent-mindedly running his fingers along the very sore patch on his inner forearm, which was only just beginning to heal. When it finished healing, in about two months, Draco would be bound forever to the Dark Lord. Secretly, Draco was terrified of this, but he would never admit that to anyone. Besides, the only people who he could tell his doubts were the death eater's themselves, and they would surely _Avada Kedavra _him so quickly if they found out, that he wouldn't even see it coming.

Learning what was truly important had really taken its toll on Draco, and he had lost a great deal of weight, despite having grown several inches over the holiday. He himself hadn't really noticed it, having been too absorbed in other matters. The other Slytherin Prefects, however, had noticed within moments of seeing him, and were constantly offering him chocolate frogs and pumpkin pasties.

Draco wasn't hungry though. He just wanted to be left alone, to think and to contemplate how he was going to successfully complete his first mission from the Dark Lord, whilst avoiding suspicion from his peers. This would be a troublesome year indeed.

By the time that the Welcoming Feast had begun, Harry was feeling well and truly annoyed with the behaviour of his two so-called friends. They had barely acknowledged his existence since meeting up with him after the train journey, and now he was sat with them but neither of them had said a single word to him.

He had given up on trying to talk to them, deciding instead to confront Ron later before they went to bed. He could ask about why neither of them had written to him as well. So, being as he had nobody sat nearby to talk to, Harry scanned the room to see what was going on at the other tables.

He could see some of the smallest first year's imaginable sitting at the Ravenclaw table, pointing at the ceiling of the Great Hall, which tonight showed thick black clouds, with occasional flashes of lightning. Harry smiled a little, remembering during his own first year at Hogwarts, when he and Ron had looked at the ceiling in the same, questioning way.

Harry's eyes scanned the Hufflepuff table for anything of interest. Unfortunately, his eyes met those of a 4th year girl, who immediately started to giggle and tell her friends. Harry shuddered a little, now very aware of the fact that there were six giggling Hufflepuffs staring at him. He swiftly averted his gaze and looked to the Slytherin table.

As always, Draco Malfoy was the most noticeable person sat at the Slytherin table, as his silvery blonde hair stood out clearly from all of those around him. Harry was a little surprised to see that Draco was not laughing and joking with his friends, nor was he bullying any other students. He was simply sitting there, obviously deep in thought. His cold, grey eyes were glazed over, and to Harry he looked almost gaunt, as if he hadn't been fed for the entire summer.

Suddenly, Malfoy's eyes cleared, and focused on Harry. He gave Harry a dirty look, before seeming to realise where he was, and he turned to his friends and started to talk. Harry looked away quickly, wondering what Malfoy had been thinking about.

Draco managed to focus his mind out of his thoughts for a moment, and looked out across the hall. He was a little unnerved to find that Harry Potter was just sat staring at him, looking a little confused.

For a brief moment, Draco felt fear wash through his veins as he thought wildly that maybe Potter knew his secret. Then he pulled himself together, reassuring himself that there was no way that Potter could know anything about his summer. Draco glared at Potter, a gesture which was more than familiar to both of the boys, but for the first time it held no satisfaction for Draco. He found himself no longer caring about upsetting the Golden Trio.

However, Draco knew that he couldn't give anyone reasons to be suspicious, so he turned around and tried to join in with Blaise Zabini and Millicent Bulstrode, who were deep in conversation about Quidditch, and who would be on the school teams.

He nodded, and made a few points about Slytherin needing new beaters, but Draco's heart just wasn't in it. Just a few short months ago the Slytherin Prince had been mad about Quidditch, but now he found himself not caring in the slightest whether or not Slytherin were in the running for the Quidditch cup.

Draco knew that he was going to have to be very careful, as he was already arousing people's suspicion. If anyone found out about his little mission, he would surely be sent straight to Azkaban.

Luckily, the opening feast was drawing to a close, and Draco could barely hold back a sigh of relief. He really needed some time alone to just think about how he was going to manage this.

Professor McGonagall stood and announced that all 6th years were to report to the Great Hall at 9 o' clock sharp the following morning to arrange their N.E.W.T timetables. Draco nodded; he already knew exactly what subjects he wanted to take. He stood and left the Great Hall, making a beeline for the Slytherin dormitories.

When Harry heard Professor McGonagall mention N.E.W.T subject choices, he felt his stomach begin to tie itself in knots. He had wanted to be an Auror for as long as he could remember, but knew that without an Outstanding O.W.L in Potions he could never be accepted for the N.E.W.T's required.

Harry had spent the entire summer worrying about this, and really didn't know what he was going to do. He couldn't just give up on his dream so easily, but he had no idea how he could convince the new Potions Master, Professor Slughorn to allow him to take the subject.

Harry stood up and told Ron and Hermione that he was going straight to bed, but they were too absorbed in each other's company that they didn't even notice him speaking.

Harry shook his head, and let out a heavy sigh before leaving the Great Hall and beginning the long trek up to the Gryffindor boy's dorms, trying desperately to push his N.E.W.T worries from his thoughts.

Draco lay in bed, his pale grey eyes wide open, staring upwards towards the ceiling. He knew that the Dark Lord would be contacting him on October 1st. His father had told him that it was simply to check up on his progress with the mission, but Draco knew full well that it was going to involve more than a little torture for him.

He thought of when the Dark Lord had used the Cruciatus curse on him, and instantly felt sick. Draco just knew that if that kind of pain was inflicted on him again, there was no way that he would be able to cope.

Draco pushed the thoughts aside, and began to think of what he was going to do over the next month, to hopefully impress the Dark Lord and avoid the torture of the Cruciatus curse. As long as he gave people no reason to be suspicious, Draco decided that what he was going to do was far from impossible, but at the same time he knew that it wasn't going to be easy.

The Slytherin Prince sat up and used his wand to close the curtains around his bed. Now that he was safe from prying eyes, Draco removed his shirt. The dark mark stood out on his pale skin, an alarming shade of red that almost glowed with each painful throb. Draco picked up a small tub of cream from beside him and unscrewed the lid. He began to gently rub the cream onto the raw skin of the dark mark, flinching and hissing in pain as he did so, but not once did he stop.

When the last of the cream was rubbed into his pale skin, Draco put the lid back on the tub of cream and placed it on the floor. He pulled his duvet over himself, and rolled over onto his side. _'Now to plan what I'm actually going to do…'_ he thought, closing his eyes and trying to think of some kind of plan.

However, the blonde boy's thoughts quickly faded, and he fell into a deep, much-needed sleep.

Harry was sat on his bed in the Gryffindor boys' dormitories, his head in his hands. What had happened to his best friends? Before the summer they had been closer than ever, but now Harry felt as though he was no longer wanted. They hadn't even realised that he was talking in the Great Hall, something that Harry had most definitely not expected. It was as if Ron and Hermione just didn't need him anymore.

Harry began to think of all the possible partner situations that he would be faced with over the course of the year. There would be partner lessons in almost every subject that he was taking, worst of all being Potions. Harry had always partnered up with Ron in every subject that he had a chance, and Hermione would go with one of the girls. But this year they would certainly go together for everything. Harry groaned loudly, falling back onto the bed.

As he did so, the door flew open and Ron strode in, his cheeks looking a little flushed and a huge grin on his face. Either Ron didn't notice Harry's groan, or he ignored it -Harry strongly suspected the latter – and started whistling as he made his way towards the bathroom.

Harry took advantage of being alone in the room, and quickly changed into his pyjamas. He used his wand to levitate his used clothes back into his trunk, and then climbed into bed. As he did so, Ron returned from the bathroom and walked towards his bed. He turned to look at Harry, who was amazed to finally be acknowledged by the redheaded boy.

"You don't know what you're missing out on mate. Being in love is brilliant…you should really get yourself a girlfriend," Ron grinned, climbing into his own bed.

Harry was stunned. His best friend had barely said a word to him since they had met up on Platform 9¾, and his first real sentence had been advice about love? Harry had been expecting a conversation about Quidditch, or N.E.W.T's, or anything other than love. This was just too strange.

"Excuse me?" he asked, wondering when exactly Ron had changed from not giving two knuts about love to being absolutely obsessed with it.

"I said you need a girlfriend." Ron replied, looking at Harry a little strangely. "I mean, you're 16 years old and you've never even had one. I can help you if you want?" he offered, clearly not realising how smug he was sounding.

"No thanks, I'll be fine Ron…" said Harry, trying to keep his expression the picture of calm, and hide the rage burning within him at Ron's statement. Who did he think he was, offering to help Harry get a girlfriend like that? Harry could get a girlfriend if he wanted one, he was sure of it, but he had always got too much on his mind to cope with a relationship. Then of course there was the fact that there weren't really any girls in the whole of Hogwarts that he was particularly keen on…

"Suit yourself mate," shrugged the redhead, before rolling over and turning out his light, having no idea just how much he had managed to incense his best friend.

Harry lay awake for a long time after Ron had fallen asleep. Now that he thought of it, it was a little strange that he didn't feel particularly attracted to any of the girls in the school. He shrugged off the thought, telling himself that they just weren't his type, and he didn't want a girlfriend who he wasn't attracted to. However, a little voice in the back of his mind asked, "_What is your type? You've never had a real girlfriend, so how would you know?_"

Harry genuinely couldn't answer what his type was. He'd always thought that he had plenty of time before everyone got involved in relationships, but now could see that he was wrong. He sighed quietly into the darkness, and decided that he would worry about love another time.

Harry rolled over once more, and tried hard to clear his mind. He lay like this for a long time before finally falling asleep.

At five minutes to nine the following morning, Harry sauntered into the Great Hall and took his place at the Gryffindor table. He was still half asleep, and was not pleased at being denied a lie in. All students excluding 6th years already had their classes chosen, so therefore had the morning off to sleep in or do as they pleased. This of course, had resulted in 80 irritated 6th years.

Five minutes later, Professor McGonagall stood and commanded attention of the room. Ignoring the seemingly never-ending stream of latecomers rushing through the doors, she began to explain the process that would be taken for choosing subjects. All students who were certain that they had the grades needed to take all of their chosen subjects were to line up and have the lists checked first, and those who were unsure were to wait until that process was complete. The unsure students would then talk one to one with Professor McGonagall about options that could be taken if they didn't have sufficient O.W.L grades to take subjects at N.E.W.T level.

Harry let out what seemed to be his hundredth sigh since arriving at Hogwarts yesterday. This was going to be a long wait – the line of students who were certain about subject choices wasn't long at all, there looked to be barely 20 students there. If Harry had to wait for 60 others to arrange their subjects before he did, it was going to take all day.

Both Ron and Hermione had gone to the line suggesting that they were 'certain' about their choices, and neither had so much as bothered to ask Harry what he was so unsure about. Harry decided that seeing as it was going to be a long wait, he may as well get comfortable, so slumped down on the table, his head in his hands.

The line of people at the front of the Great Hall was shrinking rapidly, and only 4 people remained. Hermione and Ron seemed to have gone to lessons, most definitely not the same ones considering Ron's O.W.L grades. Harry closed his eyes, trying to distract himself from the fact that his dream of becoming an Auror was crashing down right in front of him.

Just as he was beginning to resign himself to a career of taking over from Filch when the caretaker finally met his demise, Harry felt a sharp tap on his shoulder. He jumped, and turned around to find himself face to face with the Transfiguration Professor. He opened his mouth to speak to her, but was cut off.

"Mr Potter, what are you doing here? Your O.W.L grades were very good, what do you have to be unsure of?" she asked, a genuine confused look on her face. Harry turned to face her properly, and began to explain.

"Well Professor, I wanted to become an Auror…But that means I need to take Potions at N.E.W.T level…But Snape – I mean, Professor Snape doesn't take anyone without an Outstanding at O.W.L, and I only got Excellent, so-" He didn't get any further, because Professor McGonagall began to laugh. Harry couldn't for the life of him understand what could possibly be so funny about his career choice failing, and looked at the Professor, waiting for an explanation.

"Weren't you listening in the Opening Feast Mr. Potter? Professor Snape isn't teaching Potions this year. Professor Slughorn has taken on that job, and Professor Snape is taking Defence Against the Dark Arts!" she informed him, smiling. "And I believe Professor Slughorn would be happy to take student's with an Excellent at O.W.L level" she finished, taking great pleasure in the huge grin that had crossed Harry's face.

Professor McGonagall produced a blank timetable, and with a flick of her wand Harry's classes appeared on it. He thanked her and took the timetable, glancing at it to find that he had Potions first, starting in only 5 minutes. With a huge smile on his face, Harry started to walk briskly from the Great Hall down to the dungeons. _'Finally! Something is actually going right!'_ he thought to himself as he made his way down the cold stone steps to the dungeons that usually filled him with such sickening dread.

To think that he had been so worried only ten minutes ago! His dream was now securely back in his reach, and Harry promised himself that he wasn't going to let anything else jeopardise his chances at becoming an Auror.

Harry was so happy that he didn't even worry about Snape being given the Defence Against The Dark Arts job. All that mattered at that moment was that he was able to get what he wanted, and he promised himself that he would actually work to his full potential this year.

Draco entered the Potions dungeon early, along with 4 other 6th years, who had obviously hadn't wanted to make a bad impression on the new professor. He was more than a little disappointed that Severus was no longer teaching Potions – Draco had always enjoyed the favouritism that his godfather had always showed him in the lesson. However, Severus teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts was going to be a much greater help to him this year, especially with his mission.

Draco had spent the entire morning from the moment that he had woken up with his thoughts on his little mission from the Dark Lord. He needn't have bothered however, as he really wasn't getting anywhere at all. Not a single possible idea had come to Draco, and he was beginning to get frustrated already. How was he going to pull this off? What was the Dark Lord going to do to him?

Draco was brought back from his thoughts when the new Potions Professor began to speak. He introduced himself as Professor Slughorn, and was a short, fat man, sporting a moustache that caused him to bear a strong likeness to a walrus. Slughorn offered a box of Turkish Delight around the room, which now contained 11 students.

Draco suddenly realised that this would be the entire class. He had heard about N.E.W.T classes being smaller than earlier on in the school, but to go from 40 students in a class to 11? And 11 was an odd number – how would the class partner up for practical lessons?

Professor Slughorn suddenly asked everyone to move to the front desks, laughing as he told the students that he wasn't quite as frightening as Professor Snape. Draco raised his eyebrows skywards – as if they hadn't already noticed that Slughorn was hardly the picture of malice and fear. He picked up his bag and sat down alone at a desk. Draco was beginning to resent his friends for not making the cut to take Potions for N.E.W.T level, as he didn't want to be working with any of the other students in the room. There were 4 Slytherins including himself, 3 Ravenclaws, only 2 Hufflepuffs and 2 Gryffindors.

Draco certainly didn't want to work with anyone from the other three houses, and really couldn't for the life of him figure out how any of the Hufflepuffs had managed to get anywhere near a Potions lab this year. Two of the other Slytherins were girls – Millicent Bulstrode and Pansy Parkinson, both of whom Draco was friendly with, but he knew that they would go together. The other Slytherin was Graham Pritchard, a boy who had never gotten on particularly well with Draco. So for once Draco had nobody to sit with. But if there were 11 students, perhaps he would be allowed to work alone anyway.

However, as Draco took comfort in that thought, the door burst open and a twelfth student stumbled in. The boy looked thoroughly out of breath, clearly having ran (or walked very quickly) the distance from the Great Hall to the dungeons for the lesson.

"Sorry I'm late sir," he panted, "I didn't know I could take Potions this year." He collapsed down onto the nearest empty desk, trying to get his breath back. Draco was speechless. What the hell was _he_ doing here? No way had he got an Outstanding in the O.W.L's.

"Potter?"

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**Reviews?**


	2. Watching

Sorry it's been so long, I've been pretty busy lately. Huge thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, I'll post more often from now I hope.

Beta'd by eternityintime.

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"Potter?"

Harry looked at the blonde boy who sat across the room from him. Draco really did look outraged. He was amused to see that the Slytherin Prince didn't have a potions partner this year, despite having been the picture of popularity in the past.

"Don't look so surprised Malfoy," he said icily, shooting a glare in the Slytherin's direction. Turning to Professor Slughorn, Harry began to speak again, this time in a tone that was considerably more polite. "Sir, I don't have any of the textbooks that I'm going to need." He said, a small part of him worried that this walrus-like Professor would tell him that without the books, he could not participate in the class. He needn't have worried though, as Professor Slughorn simply smiled and pointed with his chubby fingers to the cupboard at the back of the room.

"Don't worry about that, boy, you can easily order a copy from Flourish and Blotts. In the meantime, I'm sure there are some copies in the back of that cupboard over there. Just take one and we'll get to work." He smiled, taking a step towards Harry's desk. Suddenly his jaw dropped, and his lips formed an alarmingly large smile. "Oh my," he grinned, rubbing his hands together a little, "You're Harry Potter aren't you?"

"Yes sir, that's right." Harry muttered, feeling his cheeks begin to burn in embarrassment at the sudden attention. This was not helped by the Slytherin students who were starting to laugh at him, whispering behind their hands. Harry wasn't sure exactly what was being said, but he caught the words 'Potter' and 'famous', so he knew that it wasn't good.

"I've heard a lot about you boy. I taught your mother, you know. Lily had a real knack for potions…" With that comment, the Potions Professor's eyes glazed over a little, as if he was reliving all of the happy memories he had made whilst teaching Harry's mother. This made Harry feel rather awkward, and he pointed towards the cupboard.

"Um…I'll … erm…I'll get that book then Professor." he managed to stutter, standing up and walking towards the cupboard. The new Professor certainly seemed strange, but at least it was an improvement from Snape. Harry looked around in the cupboard trying to find the right textbook. He found a pile of very tattered copies in the back left-hand corner of the cupboard (which was significantly larger on the inside than it appearedto beon the outside), and grabbed the top book.

Harry proceeded to walk back towards his now empty desk, clutching his loaned copy of _"Advanced Potion Making"_. Just as he went to sit down, Professor Slughorn seemed to awaken from his daydream, and focussed once again on Harry.

"Harry m'boy, how about you partner up with Mr. Malfoy over there, I'm sure you two lads could produce some fine potions if you work together," he smiled, looking from Harry to Draco, and back to Harry again.

"Oh, erm…Sir, Malfoy and I don't really get on so well…" Harry managed to say pleadingly, his stomach sinking at the thought of spending a whole year working side by side with Malfoy. Inside his head, a little voice was screaming desperately, _'Please! Don't make me work with Malfoy! Anyone but Malfoy!'_, but Harry managed to remain relatively composed. Malfoy, on the other hand, wasn't managing to look so calm.

Draco shuddered and stood up, a look of disgust on his face. Work with Potter? No chance. If they got partnered up together, he had no chance of passing Potions, and there would certainly be no opportunities for him to even consider planning out the completion of the Dark Lord's mission.

"Sir, I think that we'd both rather work alone." He said desperately, giving the Potions Master his best puppy dog eyes look. "We'd only spend the whole year fighting, and get nothing done." he finished, hoping that this statement would work. The short, fat man looked at both boys with an eyebrow raised, and Draco thought for a moment that both he and Potter would be given detention. Then the Professor began to laugh, clutching his fat stomach as he did so.

"Ah, the old school rivalry between houses is it? Very well then, far be it from me to begin a war between students," he laughed, signalling for both boys to sit back down. "Now open your textbooks to page 74. Today we're going to start off by brewing one of the simpler N.E.W.T potions."

Draco soon lost his focus on the Potions Master's explanations – he had never been particularly good at listening to the theories behind potions. He began to thinkhard about what he could possibly use to complete his mission, and how he could get hold of it. The only thing that Draco was certain of was that he didn't want to use magic for this. To him, magic just seemed to make the whole ordeal seem more real and although Draco knew that facing up to reality was something that he would have to do one dayhe didn't feel ready for that right now.

Eventually, the blonde boy began to give up on his thoughts. He started to think about Quidditch and how good it would feel to get on his Nimbus 2001 again and just fly. He wasn't aware that yet again, he was carefully rubbing his fingers along his right inner forearm as he got lost in his thoughts.

Harry opened up his tattered copy of _"Advanced Potion Making"_ and raised his eyebrows. The previous owner had really gone to town with this book, doodling and writing on what seemed to be every squareinch of space on the page. Harry looked at one of the comments, but the writing seemed to be a code that was almost impossible to decipher.

Looking up around the room, Harry's eyes focussed on Malfoy. He realised that in the moments where Professor Slughorn had attempted to partner the two boys together, the Slytherin had not used the wide opportunity to insult Harry. This was unlike the Malfoy that Harry knew, who normally took any chance to insult Harry and his friends.

Looking at him now, Harry could see that Malfoy was obviously deep in thought, and from the way that his eyes were glazed over it definitely wasn't about the potion. Normally, Harry would have suspected that the look on Malfoy's face meant that he was plotting something against him. But now the blonde just looked as if he didn't care anymore. Something was getting to Malfoy this year Harry was sure of it. Not that it was any of his business of course.

Harry asked himself why he suddenly cared so much about what Malfoy was so upset about, and shrugged. He supposed it was just interest, as he had never seen the Slytherin Prince look so rattled before.

Professor Slughorn seemed to notice that several of the students weren't listening to him, and raised his voice a little to regain their attention. This broke through Harry's thoughts, and he concentrated on the textbook in front of him. _S_etting to work on deciphering the comments scrawled on every inch of the margin.

After ten minutes of hard work and turning his book to various angles, Harry managed to read a few of the comments from the previous owner. It seemed to be advice for the potion that differed slightly from the advice in Potions textbook. Apparently if Harry stirred the potion counter-clockwise rather than clockwise as the book suggested he would get the potion to change to the desired green much faster. Seeing as he would probably mess up the potion elsewhere even if the tip worked, Harry decided to try itout.

At the end of the Potions lesson, the small group of 6th years filed out of the dungeon looking considerably more relaxed than after any lesson they'd ever had with Snape. Draco left the dingy room feeling somewhat drained. He had never had to make such a complicated potion without a partner before and it had taken his best efforts to ensure that it was even passable.

Potter, however, seemed to have managed the potion perfectly in half the time that it had taken any of the other students in the class. Draco was more than a little bit jealous of the Gryffindor having seen over the years that he really had no talent for Potions at all. To the Slytherin, who had been Snape's favourite student for so long, seeing Professor Slughorn practically drooling over Potter was almost sickening. Although he had to admit that there was reason to be impressed it had been a difficult potion. But Potter must have been cheating somehow, Draco was sure of it.

Pulling his timetable from his pocket, Draco was relieved to see that he had the rest of the day free from lessons. A lie down would really do him good, especially seeing as his arm was hurting so badly. Draco gently began to rub the raw, tattooed skin through his robes as he made his way up to the Slytherin Common Room.

The pain that it had been causing was making him feel close to fainting, even though Draco knew that Malfoy's simply don't faint. He just needed a little rest, some time alone, and then the burning pain in his right arm would surely subside… at least a little bit.

Draco knew that time was already ticking and that the Dark Lord would now be visiting him expecting some good news. The Dark Mark gave another jolt of searingpain, causing him to gasp and clutch at his arm. Luckily, Draco was at the entrance to the Slytherin Common Room by this point, and he managed to groan out the password.

Draco practically ran through the nearly-empty Common Room, desperate to get to the 6th year boys' dormitory, where he could take off his robes and rub some cream onto his sore arm. Luckily, the only people in the Common Room were a few other 6th years enjoying their free periods, all of whom knew not to question Draco Malfoy's actions.

When he finally got into the dormitory, Draco immediately cast a locking charm on the door. Now that he was finally away from prying eyes, Draco pulled his robes up and over his head, the short-sleeved t-shirt underneath them leftthe Dark Mark exposed to the air. He took a moment to have a proper look at the hideous wound, knowing that it would tarnish his otherwise perfect skin forever.

An immense feeling of regret washed over Draco once more. The Dark Mark was already starting to ruin his life. The pain it was causing him made him feel weak and pathetic, everything that Draco had been taught a Malfoy should not be. In the summer, he wouldn't be able to wear anything that didn't have long sleeves.

'_What if someone finds out about it?'_ he asked himself. It was a pointless question, as the answer was obvious. _'Then I get sent to Azkaban, where I'll slowly lose my mind. I'll never get out if I get sent there!'_ Draco thought, panicking slightly.

He quickly managed to stop himself from thinking like that, as he knew that if he continued along that particular line of thought he would almost certainly burst into tears, and he couldn't do that. Draco hadn't cried when the Dark Lord had subjected him to the Cruciatus curse and he wasn't going to start crying now. Crying was for losers, for Gryffindors like Potter.

And besides…Draco knew deep down inside that if he started to cry now, he wouldn't be able to stop. Instead, the Slytherin took his tub of cream and walked towards the window. He climbed up onto the window-ledge and looked out over the grounds, slowly starting to rub the white cream onto his arm. It felt cool against his skin, and dulled the pain until it was bearable.

Draco sat staring at the view as he gently continued rubbing the cold cream on his burning skin. He suddenly noticed a figure sitting over by the lake. It was a boy, with very messy jet-black hair, and he was throwing pebbles into the dark water of the lake. Draco instantly recognised the boy as Potter, but didn't understand why he was alone. What was happening to the Golden Trio? Draco made himself more comfortable and began to watch the boy by the lake.

Harry sat on the stony area by the lake, looking across the dark water. He was throwing stones into its forbidding depths, trying to vent his anger towards his two so-called 'friends' who still seemed to be ignoring him. Harry was certain that nobody could see him in his little spot _away_ from the castle and was enjoying the feeling of freedom that it gave him. _'After all',_ he thought bitterly, _'How often does the Boy Who Lived get a little privacy?'_

Eventually, Harry's arm got tired from slugging bigger and biggerrocks into the lake and he began, instead, to levitate them into the water. This allowed him to think more sensibly, and to relax as he did so. Harry was beginning to speak his thoughts aloud, not that it mattered as there was nobody else around.

"_Wingardium Leviosa!…_Are they ignoring me on purpose though? Are they trying to get rid of me? Surely they've realised that I'm getting left out…Hermione's too smart to miss it, and Ron…Well, maybe Ron hasn't realised. And what's the sudden obsession with love these days, anyway?" Harry questioned, feeling completely unable to even begin to answer his question.

Love was something that Harry was beginning to face up to. It seemed to him as if every Gryffindor in his year had fallen in love over the summer. He couldn't look in any direction throughout the castle without seeing teenagers kissing or cuddling. It was enough to drive Harry insane.

No matter how hard he tried, Harry just couldn't seem to get his head around the idea of love. How could it possibly be so important? _"Then again"_, he thought, _"How would I know? I've never been in love."_

This caused Harry to think back to the previous year when he had shared his first kiss with Cho Chang. Thinking about it now, he hadn't really felt anything. Obviously there had been the inevitable feeling of butterflies in his stomach, but Harry was starting to realise that those had been solely caused by his nerves rather than of love, or even a crush for that matter. Sure, he thought that Cho was pretty, but now that he wasn't letting himself get caught up in that Harry realised that was about all he felt about her.

The kiss had been nice and something different, but it wasn't particularly amazing. _C_ertainly not to the extent that all of his classmates seemed to think it was. _"Well, maybe I just haven't found the right girl yet"_, Harry told himself.

But as hard as he tried, Harry couldn't think of one girl in the whole of Hogwarts that he truly wanted to kiss. This was starting to frustrate Harry and he put his wand away, resuming his previous activity of throwing rocks into the murky water of the lake, vent_ing_ his anger.

"What the hell is wrong with me? I'm sixteen years old for God's sake, and I've never even had a proper crush on a girl! Why do I have to be such a fucking FREAK?"

Harry was beginning to shout by now, but there was nobody to hear him, nobody to see the huge splashes that the rocks were making on the usually smooth surface of the lake. For the first time, Harry actually fully appreciated the feeling of isolation, glad that there was nobody to ask if he was okay, that there was nobody to take him to the hospital wing for a calming draught. He knew that if anybody found him here, screaming at the top of his lungs, about being a freak, that he would be beyond embarrassed. People would surely think that he was insane. Something that Harry most definitely didn't need. Just as long as nobody saw him, Harry would be okay.

Draco sat on his window ledge watching Dumbledore's Golden Boy pacing back and forth along the pebbled area at the far side of the lake. It was easy to tell, even from this distance, that something really had Potter fired up.

Whereas before Potter had been throwing pebbles into the water, he was now levitating rocks of a size that could possibly be described as boulders and sending them crashing down into the depths of the lake. How the boy possibly thought that nobody would notice was beyond Draco and he continued to watch, fascinated by what could have possibly upset and angered the Gryffindor.

The Slytherin watched as Potter seemed to shout something, and cursed quietly, wishing he had opened his window. He did so now, in the hope that he might catch what Potter was saying. Unfortunately after the screamed comment, the boy quietened down and resumed his activity of throwing rocks.

Draco looked back down to his right arm. The Dark Mark was beginning to worry him, it looked infected. Nobody had mentioned that the ugly tattoo would cause his arm to look as if it was rotting, and Draco was most displeased with this. He had spent years moisturising every inch of his body, ensuring that his skin always looked perfect. Clearly that had been a waste of time, which annoyed Draco greatly, as he had been taught to maintain a flawless appearance at all times.

Turning his attention back to Potter, who was once again pacing the shore of the lake, Draco let out a heavy sigh. At least he could take solace in the fact that he was not the only 6th year who was alone and miserable.

"_Then again"_, Draco thought idly, _"Even making fun of Potter has lost its charm this yeah,"_ Draco had already passed up countless opportunities to aggravate Potter, having realised over the summer the there were far more important matters at hand than continuing a schoolboy rivalry. _"and besides, he already looks more depressed than I do"_ thought the Slytherin.

Draco didn't want to add to the stress on Potter's shoulders, because although he would never admit it to anyone, he did pity the Boy Who Lived. Before the summer, Draco had never experienced true stress and pressure from others, but Potter had the whole Wizarding world relying on him since the age of 11. Draco had always thought that the other boy had coped with the pressure very well, but until the past few days he had been incredibly jealous of the Boy Who Lived, wishing that people could rely on him in that way.

Draco ran his fingers back through his sleek blonde hair, knowing now just how stupid he had been. This year his wish had finally come true; the Dark Lord was relying on him alone, to somehow defeat the only wizard that he had ever feared – and Draco had no idea how he could possible manage to do it. Normally he would simply turn and ask for help from his father, but with Lucius Malfoy in Azkaban. Draco realised that he had nobody to turn to. For the first time, the Slytherin Prince was alone, and he was terrified.

When the sun started to set, Harry finally began his walk back to the castle. It was starting to get cold. He was looking forward to sitting by the fire in the Gryffindor Common Room for a while.

The walk back to the Common Room seemed to take forever, especially seeing as Harry had spent the whole summer with minimal exercise. When he reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, Harry managed to splutter out the password and climb through. He waited a few moments to catch his breath before walking into the main room, not wanting to show how tired he was from the walk.

Harry finally stepped into the Common Room a few moments later and was not surprised to see Hermione and Ron sharing an armchair by the fire. They were kissing passionately, so absorbed in each other that neither noticed Harry come in. He was quickly growing accustomed to being overlooked by the couple, so let out a sigh and sat down in an armchair beside them, hoping that sooner or later he would be noticed.

It soon became apparent that in order to have any manner of contact with his friends he was going to have to somehow break them apart long enough for them to notice him. Harry felt awkward in the situation, and didn't want to get involved when they were kissing, but decided that he couldn't go the whole day without speaking to them.

Harry cleared his throat loudly and his two friends jumped, turning to look at him with identical surprised expressions on their faces. Harry was hurt to realise that they genuinely hadn't noticed his presence before he had made the sound.

"Oh, Harry! Hi," smiled Hermione, clearly having no idea just how awkward the kiss had made Harry feel. However, being noticed by the girl didn't seem to be happening all too often at the moment, so Harry seized the opportunity and launched right into a conversation.

"Hi Hermione, how come you aren't taking Potions this year?" he asked, desperate to maintain her attention before she turned to kiss his redheaded friend again. He was genuinely confused as to why the bushy haired girl hadn't taken the subject, as she had mentioned getting and Outstanding O.W.L and shown every intention of continuing the difficult class.

"I am," she replied simply, a look of confusion on her face. "What made you think that I'm not taking it?"

"Well you weren't in the lesson today," Harry stated, a frown on his face. Hermione laughed, causing Harry to feel as though he may have missed something important. "What?" he asked, feeling more confused than ever.

"There are two classes Harry. You know that, right? How else did you think that they kept the groups so small?" she smirked. Harry suddenly realised how stupid he had been to think that only 12 students in the entire year had taken the subject at N.E.W.T level. He knew that many didn't want to tolerate Snape again, but surely when they had found out that there was a new Professor they would have changed their minds.

"Oh." He replied stupidly, not really knowing what else to say. He needn't have said any more though, as Hermione was no longer looking at him, her lips pressed to Ron's. Harry was really growing bored of these situations, as they did nothing more than make him feel incredibly awkward and also very lonely. Harry's assumption that his friends didn't need him anymore was no longer just an idea – it was a fact, and he didn't appreciate chasing after friends who no longer valued him.

"I'm going to bed then." Harry mumbled. He knew that the couple wouldn't hear him, but felt rude to just leave without saying anything. They paid not the slightest amount of attention to Harry as he walked up to the boy's dormitories, and he had to fight back the tears that threatened to fall by biting down hard on his lower lip.

The reason that Hogwarts had always felt like home to Harry was that it was in the Castle that he had made his first ever friends. Without his friends by his side to accompany him, Harry was beginning to feel that Hogwarts was nothing more than an empty shell. He felt as empty in the Castle as he had over the summer at the Dursleys.

Harry blinked back even more tears as he changed into his pyjamas, deciding once again to opt for a very early night. Maybe this time he would manage to avoid Ron's smug face as he talked about being in love.

A sudden knock on the Slytherin boy's dormitory door caused Draco to wake with a start. He swore quietly, and jumped down from the window ledge. The person at the door would be getting their wand out at that very moment, and Draco knew that he had to conceal the Dark Mark before they got in. He ran over to the bed and threw his robes on over his clothes.

Draco was just pulling the sleeve over the Dark Mark when the door burst open and Blaise Zabini stepped inside giving Draco a strange look.

"What did you have the door locked for?" Blaise asked, checking his reflection in the mirror by his bed.

"I wanted some privacy." Draco replied coolly. He wasn't in the mood for conversation, even if Blaise was supposed to be his friend. The other boy seemed to pick up on this, and simply nodded before leaving the room, closing the door behind him.

Draco sat down on his bed, his heart hammering in his chest. If he hadn't been awoken by the first bang on the heavy wooden door, Blaise would most definitely have seen the mark on his arm. This wasn't too much of a problem, as Draco knew that Blaise would never tell a soul about it, but Draco felt sick imagining the possibilities if someone else had walked into the room. The Dark Lord had forced Draco to swear that he would keep the mark a secret, and if Draco let his secret slip to anyone untrustworthy he was certain that his Master would kill him in an instant. Draco fully intended to keep his connections with the Dark Lord a secret as he didn't actually trust anyone fully enough to tell them.

Draco decided to change into his pyjamas, as they had long sleeves and were far more comfortable than his school robes. He took off his robes, and the clothes underneath them, before pulling on the emerald-green silk pyjamas. Draco caught sight of his reflection in the mirror from across the room and sighed. All of his clothes practically buried him, and he seemed to be shrinking by the day. The Slytherin made a mental note to eat more and climbed into his four-poster bed. _"Maybe tomorrow will be a better day"_, he thought, as he closed his eyes.

* * *

**Review?**


	3. Tears

Ugh, huge wait. Sorry about that.

Thank you to the reviewers :)

* * *

Three weeks had passed since the day that Draco had watched Potter down by the lake, and the Slytherin Prince was close to breaking point. The blonde still hadn't managed to come up with a plan for his mission, and was painfully aware that the Dark Lord would contact him in only 8 days.

Draco's worry was showing clearly, and people were frequently asking him if he was okay. The Slytherin knew that they had good reason, as he had lost even more weight since the school year had started. Draco's usually flawless porcelain skin was beginning to appear almost transparent, showing the boy to be nothing more than a shadow of his former self.

Draco was sat in Potions, keeping his eyes focussed on the desk in front of him. It was taking the boy's every effort not to fall asleep, which was no surprise to his fellow Slytherins. Draco had spent every night for the past week sat alone in the Slytherin Common Room when everyone else was sleeping, transfiguring water into coffee to keep him awake. His fellow house members were extremely worried, but the boy clearly had no intention of sleeping so there was nothing that they could do.

Now sat alone at his desk without and coffee, Draco was struggling to keep his eyes open. He slumped down on the wooden desk, trying hard to stay awake. Glancing upwards towards the small clock at the front of the room, Draco was grateful to find that he had only fifteen more minutes to struggle through.

Allowing his head to fall back down onto the desk, Draco heard Graham Pritchard whisper something about a "caffeine crash" to one of the Ravenclaw boys. The blonde didn't care what was being said – over the past week he'd heard far worse. Most of the taunts had been from fellow Slytherins, asking why a pureblood like Draco was using a muggle way to stay awake.

Draco had ignored those comments. The blonde wasn't stupid – he would have gladly asked Madame Pomfrey for some Pepper-Up potion if it hadn't meant her taking a full body scan to check his condition. Not only would the Dark Mark have shown even through clothes, but also with how severely underweight he was now, the strict nurse would certainly have opted to keep Draco in the hospital wing until he gained some weight.

Seeing as the hospital wing was no place to get any real thinking done, and the Dark Mark would definitely be seen, Draco had resorted to drinking black coffee to stay awake. It wasn't as effective as Madame Pomfrey's Pepper-Up potions, but it still helped a great deal in keeping him awake, even if the coffee did include the embarrassing side effect of making Draco need to dash off to the toilet every half hour.

He needed the toilet now, and couldn't help but squirm slightly in his seat. _"At least I can't fall asleep whilst I need the toilet"_, the blonde thought, looking up at the clock again, smiling to see that there were only 3 more minutes of the lesson.

Professor Slughorn seemed to notice this also, and told the class to tidy away their books, promising the 6th years that they would have another practical lesson the following Tuesday.

Draco gratefully pushed his heavy textbook and sheets of parchment into his bag, silently thanking the gods that his lessons for the week had finished. Now that he was standing up, Draco felt much more alert and aware of his surroundings. He was also far more aware of his need to get to a bathroom, and began thinking of which could possibly be the closest.

The bell rang and the class filed out of the dungeon, all starting to walk up the cold stone staircase. Draco walked briskly up the stairs towards the second floor. His bladder was beginning to send urgent signals to his brain, and Draco began to curse the amount of coffee that he had consumed before his Potions class.

When Draco finally reached the second floor boy's toilets his heart seemed to skip a beat. The door was locked tight, and the sign taped onto it clearly read:

"_OUT OF ORDER DUE TO VANDALISM"_

Assuming that the door had been locked by Filch, Draco drew out his wand and tapped the lock, saying _'Alohamora'_ as he did so. The lock did not, as Draco had expected, open. Instead the door remained firmly shut, making it clear that there was no chance of entry for any student.

Draco let out a low groan, biting his bottom lip. The coffee had really caught up with him now, and he knew that the chances of him making it up to the third floor toilets in time were extremely slim. Catching sight of the girl's toilet a little way down the corridor, Draco took a deep breath.

Praying that he wouldn't be caught, Draco pulled open the door and looked inside. The toilets appeared to be completely empty. The Slytherin closed the door behind him and locked the door using the _Colloportus_ charm. As soon as Draco was content with the knowledge that nobody would come into the girl's toilets and catch him, he ran into the nearest cubicle, unzipping his trousers as he did so.

When Draco had relieved himself, he stepped out from the cubicle and walked towards the sinks near the end of the room. He turned one of the taps, but no water came out. Draco shrugged and tried another tap. This one worked perfectly, and Draco washed his hands, flinching slightly at the cold water.

A swift look around the room showed there to be nothing resembling a towel and Draco couldn't remember the drying spell, so he had to be content with wiping his hands dry on his robes. His glance at his surroundings however, confirmed to Draco that this bathroom was rarely, if ever, used.

Realising that the likelihood of being disturbed was almost non-existent, the blonde decided to stay there for a while. At least there was nobody to worry about him, even if it did mean that he was locked in a girl's toilet.

Draco began to look around, and caught sight of his reflection in a dusty, cracked mirror from across the room. The boy walked towards the mirror, seeing properly for the first time just how tired and drawn he looked. Running his fingers through his hair, Draco looked a little closer at his reflection, staring into his own pale grey eyes.

"What's happened to me?" he whispered, moving his left hand slowly down his cheek and along his now prominent jawline. The blonde blinked, and stared at his own reflection for a moment longer, before Draco Malfoy, the self-professed Slytherin Prince, burst into tears.

Draco stood in the same position for a long time, just watching his reflection as tears flowed freely down his pale face. He had learned from an early age that Malfoys simply did not cry, or show any emotion for that matter. Draco had learned well from his father, keeping an iron mask over his emotions at all times, even when subjected to extreme torture such as when the Dark Lord had subjected him to the Cruciatus curse.

But for Draco, seeing himself in the mirror at that moment was too painful. He looked so weak, so gaunt, so pathetic. Seeing himself in the mirror at that moment, Draco saw that he was nothing more than a child. He looked so young, and so _ill_, as if he shouldn't even be allowed to leave his bed.

Although there was nothing that Draco could have done about it, he cursed himself for allowing the Death Eater's to give him the Dark Mark, for not finding a way to avoid being bound to the Dark Lord. Pulling back his sleeve, the boy looked at the unsightly mark on his arm, wishing harder than he had ever wished for anything before that he could take back time and avoid receiving the Dark Mark.

His sobs were now far from silent, and were causing his frail body to shake as he cried. Draco silently berated himself for being so weak, but really he was beyond caring about weakness. The Slytherin was more frightened than he had ever been in his life, and decided that he could worry about weakness another time.

There were only 8 short days left until the Dark Lord was to contact Draco, and the boy was already beginning to prepare himself for another round of the Cruciatus curse. With no plan on he was going to succeed in his mission, Draco knew that the little meeting with his Master would be far from fun and games.

Calling the Dark Lord his Master made Draco want to slaughter the man, if, of course, he could actually be considered as human. The blonde boy had no respect towards him, and had come to despise the man who had once been Tom Riddle. Every time that Draco bowed down before the monster that was the Dark Lord, he had to fight not to scream his hatred out loud.

Draco was no longer standing, looking into the broken mirror on the wall. He was sat again the cold stone toilet wall, crying freely with his head in his hands. Although the Slytherin was thankful that nobody could see him in his moment of weakness, a part of the boy wished for nothing more than to have a friend, someone who would be willing to share the burden that had been so unwillingly forced upon him.

Draco had never had a true friend, just a circle of people who respected him for his wealth. The truth was, the Malfoy heir in the past had been very demanding, and anyone seeking a real friendship had overlooked him instantly. Draco was known for his cunning and dishonesty, neither being traits to single him out as a potential friend. The blonde also locked his emotions away, making it difficult for him to be close to anyone. Usually, when Draco's thoughts turned to friendship he would convince himself that he was a Malfoy, and Malfoy's need no one. However, this time nothing that the Slytherin tried to tell himself was working, and he found himself feeling very lonely.

At the same time, Draco felt thoroughly calmed. The feeling of finally admitting his emotions to himself had reminded Draco for the first time since he was a child that he was human, and didn't need to hide everything all of the time.

Draco crying was a very rare occurrence, and never before had the boy noticed how relieving it was to shed his tears. Still crying, the Slytherin told himself that it had only been a matter of time before he broke down, having known deep down that there was no way that he could have kept his emotions and stress bottled up forever.

The boy eventually stood up and walked back over to the broken mirror. Looking at his reflection once more, Draco ran his fingers through his sleek blonde hair. The boy could see that he looked a mess, his eyes were bloodshot and tears were still flowing down his pale face. But somehow Draco thought that he looked better than before. Calmer. Maybe even a little bit happier. The Slytherin turned away from the mirror and took a step towards the toilet cubicles in the hope that they might have something to wipe his eyes with.

As he did so, Draco found himself face to face with a girl who had obviously been standing behind him. Draco screamed and turned away quickly, frantically wiping away his tears with his sleeve.

"How did you get in here?" he asked, his embarrassment at being caught crying quickly turning to rage. How dare this girl watch him as he cried? Who was she, and how did she get through the door without him noticing?

"How do you think?" she replied sarcastically. The girl had a high voice, and sounded almost as though she too had been crying. Draco turned back to face her, a confused but angry expression on his face.

"How the hell should I – Oh." Draco was cut off from his heated question as he finally noticed that the girl was in fact a ghost. She was also hovering a few inches above the ground so that the two appeared to be the same height, although now that Draco had noticed, he could see that the girl was clearly several inches shorter than him. She was wearing a pair of glasses with circular lenses, similar to those worn by Potter. Her long hair was in pigtails, and she looked as though she couldn't have been any more than a 4th year when she died. The ghost girl was also sporting a rather unattractive sneer.

"Oh, so you finally noticed did you? Well done." the girl said, hovering a little higher so that she could look down on Draco. The Slytherin felt his fury draining away at record speed, now feeling only grateful that this ghost wasn't an actual student. Considering that Draco had never seen her before, the chances of everyone in the school finding out about his little breakdown were looking to be pretty small. Because he had been crying and still wasn't feeling like his normal self (though he wasn't quite sure who his normal self was these days), Draco lowered his line of sight.

"I'm sorry, I was just scared because I don't cry very often and I thought someone from my year had caught me," he said, raising his hands a little as if to show the girl that he surrendered. Draco's curiosity was getting the better of him, and he added, "If you don't mind me asking, who are you?"

The girl seemed instantly delighted in both Draco's actions and his words, and descended until her feet were touching the floor. The sneer was gone, and had been replaced by a rather disturbing smile.

"I'm Myrtle. And this is my toilet," she smiled, waving her arms around the room in a gesture to show that everything in it was hers. "Who are you?…You're very sweet when you cry you know." She said, adding the last part as an afterthought. Draco frowned. He was a number of things, but sweet was most definitely not one of them.

"Okay then, um, Myrtle. I'd rather keep my name a secret if you don't mind, I don't want anyone to know that I've been crying in here." Draco muttered quietly, feeling his porcelain cheeks flush with a subtle pink tinge. The girl didn't look too impressed with this statement, but she didn't seem angered by it either. She simply looked at Draco for what felt like hours, before finally uttering her reply.

"Alright then. If you ever need to cry, you're welcome to come here. I won't tell anybody…I never get company anymore…" her sentence trailed off at this point and she began to cry loudly. Draco looked around himself, suddenly feeling very awkward. He didn't quite know what to do in the situation, as he'd never been faced with the sobbing ghost of a student before.

Luckily Myrtle made the decision for Draco. She sniffed goodbye, and disappeared through the wall at the far end of the girl's toilets. Draco looked around for a few moments longer before drying what remained of his tears on his already damp sleeve.

Taking a final look into the cracked mirror, Draco decided that his appearance was finally sufficient to leave the girl's toilets, and picked up his bag. There was barely any visible evidence that the Slytherin had been crying, and now that he had finally managed to compose himself, Draco decided to take a walk in the grounds to clear his head even further.

He unlocked the door using the _Alohamora_ charm, and luckily found himself stepping out into an empty corridor. Making a mental note to come back to the second floor girl's toilets whenever he needed to cry, Draco closed the door behind him and began to walk casually in the direction of the main staircase.

Although Draco still felt far from happy, his mood had significantly improved over the hour and ten minutes that he had been crying. His mind felt as though it was working much faster, and although the Slytherin was still very much aware that he had only 8 days to come up with a good plan for his mission, 8 days suddenly felt just a little bit longer than it had before he had cried. Draco decided that maybe if he cried more often it could help things along a little – just as long as nobody found out about it, of course.

With that thought in mind, a much calmer boy began his walk down the stairs towards the Hogwarts Castle grounds.

Harry was walking hastily upwards towards the second floor with tears in his eyes, threatening to fall at any given moment. Keeping his gaze fixed to the stone stairs, the boy increased his pace, taking two steps at a time. Harry should have known better than to rush when not looking where he was going, but in his state of mind he simply didn't think.

For this reason, it came as a great surprise to Harry when he walked right into the boy who had been casually strolling down the stairs. The Gryffindor hadn't quite realised just how quickly he had been walking, but did so now as the two students both fell down onto the cold steps, Harry's glasses flying from his face and landing somewhere nearby with the tinkling sound of breaking glass.

Harry instantly jumped to his feet and squinted at the boy who he had knocked over. Even without his glasses the boy instantly recognised the other student by his platinum blonde hair. It was Malfoy, and he was alone. Harry was beginning to think that the Slytherin was as friendless as he was, as the blonde had been alone almost every time that Harry had seen him over the past two weeks.

"Sorry," Harry muttered, praying that Malfoy wasn't going to hex him. All that the Gryffindor wanted was to get inside the second floor girls toilets and burst into tears, and he was certain that with his fragile mood he wouldn't be able to withstand a fight with his nemesis.

To Harry's utmost surprise, the Slytherin simply nodded and passed the dark haired boy his glasses as he climbed elegantly to his feet. Without another word, Malfoy continued his walk down the stairs. The brunette allowed his eyes to follow the other boy until he had disappeared from view, silently thanking the Slytherin for not starting an argument as a result of Harry's clumsiness.

Taking his wand out of his pocket, Harry tapped his glasses once and clearly pronounced the word _"Reparo"_, the repair spell. Now that he had taken care of that, Harry turned back to the stairs. He climbed the last few and turned right, into the empty second floor corridor. He looked left and right before opening the door to the permanently vacant girl's toilets and stepped inside.

This wasn't his first choice of locations to cry; Harry would gladly have spent the rest of the evening up in the dormitory had he been alone, but Dean and Seamus had been coming into the large room at various intervals to check if he was okay. Eventually Harry had decided to go for a walk in the grounds to clear his mind, but upon finding the weather to be dreadful, with heavy raindrops pounding on the ground, he decided on the next best place to cry; Moaning Myrtle's toilet.

The Gryffindor felt relief wash over him at the knowledge of being completely alone, and a tear spilled down his cheek. He had spent the past hour sat alone in the boy's dormitory, trying desperately to suppress the inevitable outburst of tears. During the past two weeks, Ron and Hermione had barely spoken to him, and this was starting to take its toll on the raven-haired teenager.

Harry had spent most of his free time sat alone in the boy's dormitories thinking. His thoughts had been on a number of matters, but one in particular stood out visibly from all of the others. Harry's worry was that when he had to defeat Voldemort, how would he manage to defeat the powerful Dark wizard without his friends?

This particular worry was extremely important, as although the Gryffindor had faced the Dark Lord numerous times in the past, he could not think of one occasion where he had attempted this feat single-handedly. Ron and Hermione had always been of great assistance to Harry, and without their help he was starting to worry that he would never accomplish the deed.

The Gryffindor's tears were falling thick and fast now, and he did nothing at all to prevent them. _"What if Voldemort actually kills me this year?"_ he thought, knowing that he was undoubtedly an easy target without his friends to help him out. The idea that he might not live to be seventeen was not new to Harry, but shocking nonetheless.

Harry wanted nothing more than to live a normal life one day, finally be permitted a bit of happiness to make up for his less than enjoyable childhood. Harry had once asked Sirius to tell him if Dumbledore truly believed that he would live to complete his education at Hogwarts. The answer of course, had been a quiet no from his Godfather.

Thinking of Sirius brought back memories of the time they had spent together before his Godfather had died. Harry had tried so desperately not to think of Sirius at all, convincing himself that if he pushed the thoughts out of his mind, things would hurt just a little bit less.

This hadn't worked of course, but Harry had still attempted to keep his thoughts about Sirius to the absolute minimum, wanting to avoid breaking down whenever possible. Harry had thought that once back at Hogwarts, his friends would be able to comfort him, maybe help him get over the grief that he was feeling.

Unfortunately neither Ron nor Hermione had so much as asked him how he felt about losing the closest person that he had to family. Had they forgotten what had happened in the Department of Mysteries? How distraught Harry had been upon realising that he would never see his Godfather, his Father's closest school friend, again?

Harry knew that they couldn't have forgotten. But how could the newly smitten couple not have mentioned the events of that terrible night once? Just because they had fallen in love, it didn't suddenly make everything else in the world all right. The Boy Who Lived was beginning to feel sick of the sight of the couple, even go so far as to believe that he hated them – a feeling that Harry in the past had reserved only for Voldemort and Snape.

Harry's thoughts wandered, and he found himself crying progressively louder harder as the minutes passed by. By this point, the troubled boy was sat against a cold wall, not far from the sink where he had once entered the Chamber of Secrets. He felt alone, as if no other teenager in the world was experiencing depression and loneliness in the same way that he was.

Harry removed his glasses and wiped some of the tears from his eyes. The girl's toilet was as desolate as it had been when he had visited in his second year, and Harry was willing to stake money on the idea that it hadn't been so much as visited since. Harry was, of course, completely oblivious to the fact that Draco Malfoy had been curled up crying in the exact same spot where Harry sat now, only minutes earlier.

* * *

Reviews please? Like it? Hate it?


	4. Crossing Paths

Disclaimer - I own nothing except the plot, and any spelling/grammar mistakes. (Lucky me, eh?)

Book 7 coming out in less than 11 and a half hours!!!! I can't believe it!!!

This will be the last update on this story for at least two weeks as I'm off on holiday tomorrow morning.

Thank you SO much to everyone who reviewed :)

* * *

**Chapter 4 – Crossing Paths**

Draco awoke with a start. He had been having the most awful nightmare. He had dreamed that he had been locked in a cage by the Dark Lord. Draco's Master had been throwing huge slabs of pizza at him, most of which seemed to hit the boy in the face. As he recollected his dream, Draco shuddered – he really did despise pizza.

As his mind cleared and allowed him to think about reality, Draco's stomach seemed to sink until it hit the floor. It was Monday morning now. The past two days had passed sickeningly quickly, with no productive thoughts occurring during either of them. And now it was Monday.

"Five days," Draco whispered to himself, "That's all I have now." The mere thought of the Dark Lord caused a large lump to form in the Slytherin's throat, one that just wouldn't seem to budge. The pressure on Draco felt as though it was increasing by the day, and he was beginning to feel suffocated by his own thoughts.

The amount of time alone had not been helping the blonde to escape this feeling. As he had spent so little time with others, Draco had began to converse with himself when alone. This had helped at first, talking about his problem had been somewhat relieving, even if the only person who could reply was himself. However, Draco was quickly growing bored of his own company.

The blonde reached over to his bedside table and picked up his wand. Casting the _'Tempus'_ spell, Draco realised that he had overslept, a rare occurrence for him. He quickly got out of bed and looked around the dormitory, finding the room empty. Making a mental note to thank Blaise for not waking him up in time, Draco got dressed as quickly as he could, and threw his robes on over his clothes.

Draco had transfiguration first, and he knew that Professor McGonagall would be most displeased if he was late. For this reason, the blonde took only 30 seconds to make sure that his hair was tidy before running from the room.

* * *

Harry sat in his normal seat, resting his head on his arms. Whoever had decided to give the 6th year's transfiguration first thing on a Monday morning had been very cruel indeed. Ron and Hermione were sat to Harry's right, engaging in a long, slow kiss that was making most of the class feel rather awkward.

Harry was deliberately refusing to look in their direction, so kept his eyes firmly focused on the desk in front of him. Neither of the pair had spoken to him for days now, and his only social interactions had been with Dean, Seamus and Neville.

The door to the classroom opened and Professor McGonagall rushed inside and walked up to the front of the classroom. Hermione quickly broke her kiss with Ron and both turned a magnificent shade of magenta. The Professor disregarded the kiss, earning a grateful look from the bushy haired witch.

"I apologise for my lateness, a fight broke out between some of the first years. Open your textbooks to page 312." Professor McGonagall said briskly, clearly wanting to start the lesson quickly to make up for the late start.

Harry reached for his heavy textbook and opened it up to the correct page, allowing his eyes to glaze over when he saw the tedious-looking page of text in front of him. There wasn't a single picture on the page, and the only gaps in the text were the separations between the paragraphs.

The door to the classroom suddenly flew open for the second time in ten minutes. Every member of the small class turned around to see Draco Malfoy stumble through the doorway, his eyes locked on the ground.

Harry was a little surprised. Malfoy was never late to lessons, he often showed up early just to intimidate the Gryffindors. Also, the Slytherin was alone yet again. Harry couldn't understand what would force Malfoy to suddenly abandon his group of friends and adopt such a solitary lifestyle. The blonde looked so ill, so underweight that although Harry hated the boy, he still felt sorry for him.

Harry's eyes followed the frail Slytherin as he walked across the room and collapsed onto his seat. He really didn't look healthy at all. The Gryffindor suddenly asked himself why he was worrying about Malfoy. When he couldn't think of an answer, Harry resumed his activity of staring blankly at _"Advanced Transfiguration - Book 1"_.

Professor McGonagall was finally free to begin the lesson properly with no interruptions, and she took advantage of the classes silence, clearing her throat and starting to explain Edna Dihcro's theory of object to animal transformations.

* * *

The rest of the day had passed almost painfully slowly for Harry. His fellow Gryffindors had started to tease him, and the boy felt as though he could hardly move an inch through the school without somebody sniggering at him from behind their hand. Harry was honestly rather surprised that he had managed to avoid his classmates taunting for so long, especially seeing as the first years were so intrigued by his presence.

Normally, Harry would have been able to cope with the jests, simply brushing them aside. However, the Gryffindor no longer had his friends to cheer him up, and the cutting comments made by other students were simply reminding him of his friendless state.

The Boy Who Lived wanted nothing more than to curl up in a quiet corner and cry. Instead, Harry was sat cross-legged on his four-poster bed, with his tattered Potions textbook laid open on the sheets in front of him. Despite Professor Slughorn being much less intimidating than Snape, he still set liberal amounts of homework and fully expected it to be completed. As Harry was finally reaching his potential in the difficult subject, he wanted to ensure that his grade was not in danger of slipping.

Unfortunately for Harry, he couldn't seem to focus on the work at all. Looking down at his parchment, the only writing on the page was the title; _"Why Felix Felicis Is Banned From Most Official Competitions". _Harry was growing more frustrated by the minute, as he just couldn't seem to think properly about the essay, despite being genuinely interested in the so-called "liquid luck potion".

The door suddenly burst open and Dennis Creevey stumbled into the room. Harry looked up to see that he was carrying a camera identical to the one that his brother Colin was often seen sporting. The small boy slowly walked across the room to Harry, before promptly holding the oversized camera up to his face.

_FLASH!_ Harry blinked rapidly, hoping that the younger Creevey brother had an extremely good reason for disturbing and apparently blinding him. He opened his mouth to ask the younger boy, but was cut off as his question was answered.

"He-Hello Harry! I'm just taking some pi-pictures for the Daily Prophet! They're do-doing a story on you tomorrow morning Harry! About you ha-having no friends!" the boy stuttered, clearly caught up in a wave of excitement about having his photographs used in the Prophet. The moment that he had stopped speaking, Dennis turned and promptly ran from the dormitory, his breathing frantic.

Harry could only sit in shock for the next thirty seconds. When he finally regained the ability to think and move, Harry gave up on his homework for the time being and stood up. The stress that he had been feeling was all getting to be too much for the boy, and he knew that tears would be falling sooner rather than later.

Harry went to leave the room, and then turned back, decided to take his potions book with him after all. Maybe the homework would make more sense after he had released some of his anger and sadness. He pushed the textbook into his bag along with some spare parchment and a quill.

Slinging the bag over his shoulder, Harry left the room and began the tedious walk through the Gryffindor Common Room. Despite common perceptions about the Gryffindors, Harry was beginning to see the darker side of his fellow housemates. Their teasing about his loneliness was becoming as bitchy as that of the Slytherins. This seemed so different from the past, when every person in the room except for the first years had cheered his name during Quidditch matches, and told him afterwards how talented he was. Although these moments had been awkward for Harry, he would certainly have preferred them to the reactions that he now provoked.

As the messy haired teenager walked down the steps and through the large and usually cosy room, silence was cast upon it. A moment later the silence was broken, though not by resumed conversations. Instead, the Gryffindors began to whisper behind their hands, clearly about Harry. He could hear snippets of the conversations, but nothing more. To Harry, these whispers felt as though they grew louder with every step that he took across the room.

As he reached the portrait after a seemingly eternal walk, Harry felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around to see a third year girl looking up at him, an ugly smirk on her face. The smirk grew more obvious as she asked him a simple question.

"Is it true that you're 16 and have never even had a proper girlfriend?" As the girl finished her question, laughter erupted from all around the room.

Harry didn't answer the question. He simply glared around the room and turned to leave, though not before noticing that one of the laughing Gryffindors was none other than Ron Weasley.

Seeing his first real friend laugh at him so readily hit Harry like a punch in the stomach. He immediately found himself biting back tears, and began to run as he stepped outside of the Common Room.

* * *

Draco wasn't quite sure how he had ended up in the deserted second floor toilets for the second day running. One moment he had felt good considering the circumstances, and the next he had found himself rushing towards the second floor girls' toilets, once again on the brink of tears.

The Slytherin stood in front of the cracked mirror, cursing his weakness for every tear that fell. He was painfully aware that he now had only 7 days to toughen up and formulate a mission plan. Draco wasn't sure that he could even withstand another of the Dark Lord's curses, especially in this fragile emotional state.

Pushing back his sleeve, Draco took another look at his right forearm. Most of the skin on his inner forearm was a deep, raw red in colour, but the Dark Mark itself was the deepest black.

Tears still rolling down his pale cheeks, the Slytherin walked over to a sink and turned on the tap. Filthy water began to pour out into the sink, and Draco shuddered. He quickly took out his wand and cast a quick "_Purify_" at the water, smiling as it changed from the colour of sewage to clear, pure water.

The boy then pulled his sleeve even further up and allowed the area of his arm with the Dark Mark to rest under the cold water. Draco gave a sigh of relief. The constant throbbing that the tattoo caused him was not completely gone, but the pain was greatly reduced.

Looking down as the water splashed onto his arm caused Draco's sobs to become heavier. He looked around the room, thinking how desperate he had become. He had been brought up to believe that working for the Dark Lord would make him stronger, yet Draco had never felt so weak in his life.

* * *

Harry sprinted down what seemed like the thousandth flight of stairs, still trying desperately not to cry. When he had started running, the Gryffindor hadn't actually had any idea where he was heading, but as there were a few groups of people around and his tears were threatening to fall at any moment, he realised that he needed a destination fast.

The room of requirement would have been perfect, but Harry realised that he was on the second floor, and would have to go back up 10 flights of stairs to reach it. Looking around, Harry realised that Moaning Myrtle's toilets were only along the corridor. Deciding that it was his best option, the Gryffindor started to walk along the corridor towards the door to the girls' toilets.

When Harry reached the door, he pushed it open and stepped inside, letting his tears fall as he did so. He closed the door behind him, and turned to look around the room. As he did so, he jumped. Quickly wiping away his tears, Harry willed his heart to beat a little slower as he addressed the boy by the sinks.

"Malfoy? What the hell are you doing in here?"

Draco jumped upon hearing another voice, having been too busy crying to notice the other boy come in. He hurriedly pushed his sleeve down, and spun to face the person who had spoken.

His heart lurched up into his throat as he realised that Potter was the intruder. Realising that his cheeks were stained with tears, the Slytherin quickly wiped his face, glaring at the other boy as he did so.

"None of your business, _Potter_" he spat. Nobody was allowed to see Draco cry, least of all Harry bloody Potter. He continued to glare at the Gryffindor, inwardly praying that no signs of his tears remained. His hopes were crushed when the other boy took a step closer and smirked.

"You've been crying."

Harry couldn't work out how Malfoy had learned of the deserted girls' toilet, or why he had been crying, but the Slytherin's red-rimmed eyes and tear stained cheeks were unmistakable. The once elegant Slytherin Prince looked so weak, so pathetic that for a moment Harry couldn't help but feel a little sorry for him. This moment was ruined almost instantly as the other boy began to walk quickly towards him, arms outstretched.

"Malfoy, what are you----" Harry was cut off as the other boy wrapped his hands around his throat. He was forced to look straight at the Slytherin, and this time he felt no pity, only disgust. He felt Malfoy loosen his grip a little.

"You bastard! What do you think you're doing? Let go of me!" he shouted.

Draco just looked blankly back at him. What did he think he was doing? How was strangling the Boy-Who-Lived going to erase his memory? These thoughts crossed through Draco's mind but didn't quite register, as he heard himself speaking with malice.

"How did you get in here Potter? I locked the door." He hissed, tightening his grip on the other boy's throat and watching him squirm. Draco's heart was pounding in his chest, but he refused to let his surprise and fear show to the other boy.

"It was open."

Draco felt his glare slide from his face, and suddenly felt incredibly stupid. He stepped back, freeing Potter.

"Are you sure?" he asked, thinking back and realising that he didn't actually remember locking the door. Dumbledore's Golden Boy reached up and rubbed the red marks that had appeared on his throat where Draco had grabbed him.

"Certain. Now are you going to tell me why you're in here?" Harry continued to massage his throat as he spoke, looking at Malfoy in a state of confusion. He had to fight not to add '_And was it really necessary to attempt to strangle me?_'

"No I'm not. Why are you here? Spying on me by any chance?" replied Malfoy. Harry almost laughed at this comment, but instead gave the blonde his worst look.

"Don't flatter yourself Malfoy." Harry sneered. For a moment Malfoy looked taken aback, as though the Gryffindor had shattered his composure. Then the Slytherin stepped so close to the other boy that they were almost touching. So close that Harry could feel Malfoy's warm breath on his lips. He felt his breath hitch in his throat. The other boys' face was only centimetres from Harry's own.

"Oh, now I'm _really_ scared Potter" hissed Malfoy. The blonde pushed roughly past Harry and walked briskly out of the room, leaving a very confused Gryffindor standing alone in the girls' toilet.

* * *

Draco walked quickly back down to the dungeons. Luckily it was only 3 floors, and there was nobody about. Had he not been a prefect, the blonde would have been worried about getting caught as it was clearly after hours, but the knowledge that he could easily feign being on patrol calmed him.

Due to his speed, it took the Slytherin only 5 minutes to reach his Common Room. He whispered the password and stepped inside, glancing around the room. There was a time when Draco Malfoy entering the Slytherin Common Room silenced even the older students, but due to his frail appearance any chance of that happening now was long gone.

Now, nobody noticed his entrance, not even his friends. Draco saw this as an advantage, knowing that if Blaise saw him walking in there would be countless questions about where he had been. The blonde glanced over at his friends, who were sitting in their usual place by the fire, before walking towards the boys' staircase.

Draco ran up the stairs 3 at a time and walked over to the 6th year dorms. Having seen the number of people in the Common Room, Draco was certain that he would have the room to himself for at least an hour, which was definitely a good thing – he needed some time to think.

Draco closed the door behind him and walked over to his bed. He collapsed onto it; it had been a long day. The Slytherin closed the thick green curtains that surrounded his bed and cast a silencing charm on them. False sense of security or not, it helped him to relax.

Thinking back to his encounter with Potter in the second floor girls' toilets, Draco felt genuine confusion. He had leaned in close in the hope that it would frighten Potter, but all he had seen in those green eyes was confusion and a little nervousness.

Feeling that he was reading too far into the situation, Draco cast a quick '_Tempus_' spell. 10pm. Deciding that it was late enough to sleep, he undressed down to his boxers and climbed into bed.

As he lay there, the Slytherin realised that he never found out what Potter had been doing there in the first place. One thing he was certain about though; next time he would definitely make sure he locked the door.

* * *

When Malfoy left the girls' toilet, Harry's mind hadn't been functioning properly. One thing that he _was_ aware of though was how much colder the room felt when the other boy left. He knew that it was stupid, that he would rather spend time in a room with anyone else in the world over Malfoy. Except maybe Snape. Or Voldemort for that matter.

But the fact remained that the conversation that they'd had, if you could call it that, was more than any contact that Harry had had with Ron or Hermione since the start of term. This was immensely worrying to Harry, but he refused to accept that his friends no longer acted like friends.

Realising that it must be after hours, Harry began the long walk back to the Gryffindor Common Room. Luckily he didn't bump into any prefects, and found himself back at the portrait of the Fat Lady in no time.

"And what time do you call this young man?" she asked as Harry walked up to the entrance. He smiled sheepishly and shrugged.

"Mandrakes. Please let me in?"

The Fat Lady gave a loud sigh, but the portrait swung open and Harry was free to pass through. He gave her a nod of thanks before climbing through the portrait hole. The Common Room was slightly emptier than when he had left, but there were still more people than chairs.

As he walked across the room, Harry was aware of everyone going silent again. But this time he didn't care. All that mattered was getting through the room and into his bed. He kept his gaze fixed firmly on the floor as he walked to the stairs.

It seemed like an age before Harry reached the dorm, but when he finally did he was pleased to see that it was empty. The brunette closed the door behind him and undressed as he walked over to his four-poster bed.

By the time that he reached the bed, Harry was wearing only his boxers. He threw the rest of his clothes into the open trunk at the foot of his bed and climbed onto the soft bed. He closed the curtains around him and got under the duvet, feeling exhausted despite not having been particularly active.

Harry felt sleep coming over him within seconds, but just before it took over completely, a little voice in his head spoke up; _'Why are you so interested in Malfoy anyway?'_

Harry frowned in his semi-conscious state. He honestly didn't know.

* * *

**I know this is much shorter than the other chapters but it just seemed like the right place to end it.**

**Reviews please? Let me know what you think of book 7 as well:)**


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